The Refuge
by lauraforthewinoswald
Summary: Michael was left orphaned on the streets of East London circa 1888 when he was only four years old. By age five; he'd grown into a knife wielding cutpurse surviving on scraps. Until the day he stole from the wrong man's pocket and ended up kidnapped and sent to a refuge for future Time Masters. This is the story of Rip Hunter before Rip Hunter. (Warning for mild brainwashing)
1. Whitechapel, London - 1888

Whitechapel, London - 1888

A four year old boy wandered through the seedy alleyways of east London calling for his mother. His clothes were ragged and his feet bare and muddy. A young woman working the street corner heard his whimpering and ran towards him. "Hello, little one. Lost you mummy, have you?" She smiled as the little boy shook his head yes. She took out a handkerchief to wipe his tear stained face. "Ah, there's he is. What a handsome little boy you are." She looked around the corner to make sure no one was around. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Michael." The boy replied

The woman heard footsteps coming. "Hide" She whispered to the boy. He hid behind a trash bin and peaked out to see the woman chatting up a well dressed man. She was flirtatious and managed to slip a delicate hand into his coat pocket before the man declined her offer. She looked back to see the boy peering up at her. "Were you looking?"

"Sorry." Michael replied. "Mummy says to hide when men are home. But I look sometimes."

"Looks like your mummy and I had similar occupations." She knelt down beside Michael and took out a gold pocket watch. "I snatched this from that silly man. Have you ever taken something that doesn't belong to you?"

"Yes." The child looked down at the ground as if he'd been caught.

She hands the child the gold pocket watch. "I think you and I can work out a little arrangement together, what say you to that?"

Michael agreed to work with the woman. She cleaned him up to look presentable and set him loose on the streets to collect what he could. He'd pout and flash his big baby blue eyes as a distraction before snatching purses right under people's noses. But just like his mother; the woman disappeared after a few months under mysterious circumstances. But Michael learned lessons on survival enough to sustain him for some time.

Michael was five when he stole from a man with a bit more in his pockets than the little boy expected. Michael got to the abandoned apartment he called home and opened the small purse to find what looked like a watch. He pressed a button on the side of the watch and symbols that he couldn't quite recognize appeared to hover over the watch face in dim blue light.

A loud knock on his door suddenly startled Michael. He put the watch under some ragged old blankets and reached for his knife. He hid it behind his back as the man he'd stolen from walked in. "Give it back, kid." The man demanded.

"Please, sir.." The boy looked up with big dewy eyes. "Please, I'm so hungry... I..."

"Cut the act and give me my things." The man advanced towards Michael and grabbed him by the collar. Michael took out his knife and cut the man's hand.

"You little..." The man pushed the boy to the ground and into his pile of blankets. The blue display of the watch glowed and the man took it back. The man looked around at the squalor the boy was living in. "Where's your mom and dad, kid?"

"Nowhere." The boy replied.

"You've got some fight in you." The man chuckled as he held his bleeding hand.

"What is that thing?" Michael asked. "Is it like a map."

"Actually, yes. You're pretty smart." The man took out another device from his pocket and held it up to the Michael's face. "Hold still."

The device buzzed and scared the boy. "Leave me alone!" Michael kicked the man and ran for the door. But he was stopped by another man standing outside. They held him in place as he squirmed trying to get free. A red light scanned his face and the device began to beep and whir. The man nodded. "He's good, take him."

"Let go!" Michael bit the man's hand and tried to make another run for it before he was caught. The man took out a syringe and pierced Michael's neck. Everything went fuzzy and dark. Michael woke up strapped to a metal table. He wriggled and found himself completely unable to move. He began to cry for help and a woman appeared. She shushed him and placed her hand on his forehead.

"We've rescued you." She said in a calm soothing voice.

Michael looked around at all the strange gadgets around him and tears began to fall. "I'm scared." He whispered.

"You're safe now. You're going to a refuge." The woman replied. "Now, I'm going to take off your restraints and you're going to be a good boy for me. Isn't that right?"

"Yes." Michael whispered. The restraints disappeared and Michael slowly sat up. It was then that he noticed the IV injected into his arm. He frantically began to pull at it. It stung.

"No, you're going to hurt yourself." The woman stopped him. "You were malnourished. This is helping you."

"You're a doctor?" Michael asked.

The woman shook her head yes. The room shook a bit. "I think we've landed." She smiled.

Michael was lead down the halls of the ship by three men. He looked around at the unfamiliar sights around him in a mixture of fear and wonder. He wasn't expecting a quiet garden to be waiting outside the door. It looked like a sweet village in the English countryside next to a beautiful cottage. They walked in to find a cozy living quarters with a warm fire and a table filled with pastries. It looked like something out of a dream. Michael ran straight towards the table and hoarded as many pastries as he could into his pockets.

The sound of a woman's laughter turned him around. It was an older woman in an outfit similar to those who'd been inside the ship. "There's plenty for everyone. No need to take them all at once." She leaned in and extended her hand. "What do I call you, young man?"

"Michael." He hesitantly shook her hand.

"I'm Ms. Xavier. I'm the mother at this refuge." The woman replied. "Are you hungry, Michael?"

"Yes, Mother." His eyes lit up with joy as Ms. Xavier led him to a dining room filled with more food than he'd ever seen. He ran excitedly to join the other children. A part of him almost thought he'd died and gone to heaven.


	2. You Owe Your Lives To The Time Masters

Michael started going to school for the first time thanks to the Time Masters. He learned to read and write rather quickly and already seemed to have a good understanding or arithmetic for a five year old; more than likely from his time spent swindling money off people in the streets. But it was quite clear he was a boy of far above average intelligence.

Second year was when they began to delve into what it truly meant to be a Time Master. The teacher stood before the class and explained. "The Time Masters are the guardians of time. We preserve and protect our history. You are the future defenders of this world. All of you were chosen for a purpose. The men and women who brought you all here; they saved you. You owe your lives to the Time Masters."

They went over the importance of preserving the timeline by their anonymity. Each student was given the record of their past lives at the end of second year. They were to open their document, read it, then burn it. They were not to tell a soul about what they had read. One by one each child walked up to the flame and dropped their document into the fire. It was all very ritualistic. Michael opened his document. It read,

'Michael Carter - Whitechapel, London, UK - Born June 17, 1883 - Died Jan. 3, 1889 - Cause of death - Starvation/Hypothermia - Extracted Sept. 6, 1888.'

Michael had understood his lesson on altered timelines and grasped the idea there was a timeline without the Time Masters where Michael died. But it shocked him to see the date of his would be death. It seemed that other children had similarly shocking documents as some began to hold back tears. Michael was more than happy to forget his old life. He couldn't wait until he was old enough to join the academy and receive his new identity. He was chosen for a purpose. He owed his life to the Time Masters.

By age nine they deemed the children ready to use weapons and fighting techniques. Michael was already quite good at this skill. In fact, he'd had to tone it down after he first arrived to the refuge. Even with all the food at the table every night; Michael couldn't get over his habit fighting for food. He'd mostly gotten over it and learned to use his skills only for combat practice. But he still had a hidden stash of cereal boxes under his bed. He'd at least finally lost that heavy cockney accent of his. He was sounding and acting like a real proper gentleman now. A proper gentleman who was trained to kill.

Sometime after his tenth birthday, a team of Time Masters came to visit. They were on some very secret mission that he wasn't allowed to know much about. All he knew was that someone was trying to wipe out his future self's crew by traveling through time to kill them as children. He watched the man from afar. That was who Michael would be someday. He was so incredibly tall. Michael couldn't wait to be that tall. Still so skrawny though, Michael thought.

Mother Xavier laid out the plan for Michael. He was to cause a distraction just like he used to do before the Time Masters took him in. He'd play the innocent child until it was time to strike. Then he'd attack the woman and his future team would do the rest. It went off without a hitch and the crew went on their way. Michael wanted so much to ask questions but he knew he wasn't allowed to know his own future. Either way, seeing his future self gave him more incentive to be the best he could for the Time Masters.

Their studies were very heavily geared towards science and history; both of which Michael excelled at. But other studies were lacking as they didn't hold much importance for Time Masters. There was at least a large library of books were one could use their recreational time for other pursuits. Michael had finished all his studies with time to spare so he took a rare moment of leisure to look for something fun to read. He picked up some books on the Old West, a favorite time period of his, but then came across a book unlike anything he'd seen before. It was a system of symbols on bars. After some research he discovered it was written music.

His mother played a great deal of classical music on the record player but he's never seen music written down before. Eager to learn more; he ran to Mother with the book to ask if she knew how to read music. "I do know a little." She replied with a smile. "Promise me you won't neglect your studies if I show you how to read this."

Michael swore he would. He just thought she'd show him how to read it. But she did him one better by leading him to a room down in the basement area. She took out a violin from a case and handed it to him. He held it a bit confused until she guided him to place the bottom of the instrument to his neck and his hand up to the strings. She put the bow in his other hand. "See, when you pass the bow over the strings it creates friction that creates sound. Where you place your hands on the strings you change the tone."

"Of course, a change in the length of the strings would alter the sound's frequency. Shorter strings would give off a higher pitch than longer strings. This will be easy." Michael replied as he tried to pass the bow over the strings. It made an odd screech. Mother laughed. She moved his fingers and told him to try again more softly. He did so and the instrument played a very pleasant C sharp. He soon picked up on the rules and patterns of sheet music and was playing Bach's Partita No. 2 in D minor like a pro within months of picking up the instrument.


	3. Attachments

By age 12 the children were deemed old enough to have 'the talk'. They had already been taught the rules against emotional attachments and reproduction. It was all discussed in a very clinical sense. None of it sounded romantic or loving in the least.

The teacher stood before the class. "Who can tell me why romantic attachments are forbidden among Time Masters?"

Michael raised his hand "Love makes us vulnerable."

"That's right, love makes us vulnerable." The teacher replied. "Now you are all here today because you are at an age when one naturally begins to feel physical urges." Some children in the class began to chuckle. The teacher cleared her throat and the class quieted down. The teacher continued. "It's quite normal for you to feel this impulse as it is an instinct in all animals. But you're not animals, are you? You're more that that. You were chosen for a purpose. Remember that." The teacher then picked up some papers and handed them out to the children. "This is just a small survey about attachments. Please answer truthfully. There is no right or wrong answer here. This is simply to measure where you all stand."

The students began to fill out their questionnaires. Michael had never in his life come across an exam he couldn't properly answer. The teacher said there was no right or wrong answer but that drove him crazy. He always had the right answer and now there was none. He figured it had to be a trap. Everything had a right or wrong answer.

Have you ever experienced a romantic attachment to someone?

Michael answered no. Even though he had once imagined kissing the girl he sat next to in Advanced A.I. Algorithms. He also got this sensation in the pit of his stomach when his sparring partner laughed. It was something about his smile gave Michael a strange case of the butterflies.

Michael answered the rest of the questionnaire in a way that he felt was the correct way even though half were lies. He wasn't a fool, he knew this was an attempt at weeding out those unqualified to be future Time Masters. His interest in joining the Time Master academy was far greater than a fleeting interest in kissing.

Later that night, Michael found mother in her study listening to some music on her record player. "I like this one." Michael said as he entered the study.

"I could get you the sheet music if you like." Mother Xavier smiled.

"What's it called?" Michael asked as he studied the sleeve the record came in.

"Romance For Piano And Violin." Mother replied.

Michael paused for a moment. "Can I ask a question?" He looked up at mother and waited for her to nod yes. "What are the key difference between love, romance and sex?" He asked. "We seem to throw them all under the umbrella of forbidden attachment but I know they're different. From what I've read, sometimes there's sex without love; or there's romance without sex. What I mean to say is... It there anyone of those combinations that's less forbidden than the others?"

"Are you looking for a loophole in the Time Master's code of conduct?" Mother smiled.

"I'm just curious." Michael shrugged. "That question doesn't even cover the different subcategories of love."

"Subcategories?" Mother leaned up against her desk and crossed her arms.

"The ancient Greeks separated love into four categories. There's eros, physical love. Philia, the closeness one feels for their friends. Agape, unconditional love. Then there's storge love which is what one feels for their family. Like the attachment a parent feels for their children." Michael looked down at the ground for a moment. "Mother, do you feel Storge love for me?"

Mother Xavier's usual steady demeanor was shaken. She tripped over her words; unable to find the right ones. "I care for you very much." She finally spoke. Michael ran to her and hugged her. Hesitant at first, Mother leaned in and hugged the boy. "Do you love me, Michael?" She asked.

"I think so." Michael felt himself beginning to cry. He hadn't cried since the day he came to the refuge nearly six years ago. Michael broke away from the hug and wiped the stray tears. "Just don't tell anyone, ok? I don't want to get in trouble."

"Mum's the word." Mother winked.

Michael smiled through the last of his tears and ran off back to his bedroom. As far as attachments went, he figured the love of family was the least bad one of the bunch. Logically it made the most sense. Family units are the foundation of society and therefore important. Romantic love on the other hand seemed rather selfish. And physical love sounded strangely barbaric. Logically, physical love didn't make any sense to him. And yet, a small part of him was curious. It was a tiny little voice constantly trying to break through in the back of his mind but he did an excellent job at ignoring it.

In the following weeks he found some of the previous students had disappeared. When he asked his teacher about it, she said they'd been let go for not meeting the final requirements for future Time Masters. Again, he went to Mother for advice.

"Where do people go when they're unqualified for the Time Master Academy?"

Mother offered him a seat without answering the question. "I put the kettle on." She set the table with sugar and cream and some biscuits. Michael was distracted for a few minutes by the sweets but remembered his train of thought after Mother sat at the chair across from him.

"I was just thinking." He spoke with his mouth half full. "Where would they go? They can't be sent back to where they came from, right? It'd be detrimental to the timeline to send someone back to the same spot again if they showed up suddenly ten years older."

"You're quite right." Mother replied, sipping her tea slowly.

"Or perhaps they simply alter the extraction. They just go back to the point before the extraction took place to make sure it didn't happen at all." Rip paused. "But I was extracted because I would have died otherwise. Most of us were, we're orphans."

Mother stopped mid-sip. Her eyes grew worried. She knew he was putting the pieces together.

"Would the Time Master's do that? Would they leave children to die?" Michael looked up at Mother in hopes she'd tell him he was wrong.

"It's best you don't ask those sorts of questions around others." Mother replied.

Michael shook his head understandingly. He tried to rationalize the situation. For the greater good of the timeline, sacrifices must sometimes be made. That's what he'd been taught all these years. There was no room for sentiment.


End file.
